


Phillipa Soo and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

by generalwastedisposal



Category: Hamilton - Miranda (Broadway Cast) RPF
Genre: Accidents, F/F, i fudged the whole timeline of the show, just FYI, lin tweets inappropriately, literally what is this, snuggles, soy cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:08:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalwastedisposal/pseuds/generalwastedisposal
Summary: it's been A Day, and Pippa's relying on her girlfriend to get through it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this was a prompt I got on the tumblr...and you can too! @mezzomess

    It had been a Day.

   The fact that Pippa just arrived at work and already has come to this conclusion is probably not a good sign. Scratch that-definitely not a good sign, Pippa thinks as she looks down at her shirt that was once light blue but has turned a sort of grayish-brown from the coffee she’d spilled on it in her rush to leave the house.

   She sighs as she notes that she wouldn’t have been rushing in the first place, had it not been for the cat’s inability to digest his new food, resulting in Pippa waking up to a warm pile of feline vomit in the kitchen.

  And to make matters worse, the subway was completely shut down, because apparently the universe is out to get Pippa. She gasps apologies at the stage manager as she hurtles by the callboard, frantically scribbling her initials in stark contrast to her normally loopy, neat signature.

   Jasmine, who’s been receiving increasingly agitated text messages, is ready when Pippa comes streaking into their dressing room several seconds later, just as “ladies and gentlemen, you have 25 minutes to places. That’s twenty-five minutes,” comes filtering down the hallway. She sits her girlfriend down, pulling off her coffee stained shirt, which distracts Pippa for a couple of seconds before she decides that at least right now, the show is probably first priority.

  Jasmine’s brushing her hair and Pippa’s just started filling in her eyebrows when Mark, Pippa’s dresser, comes rushing in. Jasmine shoots him a look before he can say anything about her untimely late arrival, which Pippa is thankful for because she’s not entirely confident in her ability to not burst into tears right now, if such a comment were made.

   Fifteen minutes is called as Mark is yanking on her corset, accompanied by the announcement that Andrew’s going on in Anthony’s track. The stage manager is cut off by Andrew himself bursting unannounced into the dressing room, looking about as frantic as Pippa feels.

   “So, I was supposed to have a put-in for this track tomorrow, but Anthony had to go and get tonsillitis, so here we are.” He indicates his fluffy ponytail, balking at Jasmine’s attempt to smooth down the fly-aways. Pippa raises an eyebrow over her mascara wand, already anticipating the next question. “Will you run take a break and the stay alive reprise with me? So fast.”

  Pippa’s first instinct is to kick him out of the dressing room, because that’s the kind of day she’s been having and she just wants to snuggle with Jasmine for a couple of minutes before places, but she knows it’s not Andrew’s fault he didn’t get a put-in.

  Thank god Andrew is good at his job, because he decides he’s got a grip on the songs right around the five-minute call, and leaves as quickly as he came in, off to make Daveed run My Shot. That gives Pippa just enough time to chug some water and swipe on a coat of lipstick.

   This last action is quickly undone as Jasmine corners her in the crossover on their way to stage left, pressing a kiss to her lips that leaves Pippa holding onto the table and breathing a little heavier than she’d care to admit.

   “Relax.” Pippa refrains from pointing out that with Jasmine’s body pressed against hers like it is, she’s about as far away from relaxed as she’s ever been.

    “So you weren’t the first one here for once. It’s fine. Pretty sure you beat Leslie anyways.” Pippa can’t help but laugh at this, because Jas is probably right, but her body’s still tense with the events of that morning. However, as the orchestra plays its opening riff and Leslie steps onstage, Pippa’s reminded of why she does this in the first place. Stealing one last kiss from her girlfriend, Pippa leaves the wings and Eliza steps onstage.

   It’s the same as it is every night, when all of her worries and tendencies towards scatterbrained-ness melt away, but at the same time, it’s completely different. This is Pippa’s favorite thing about live theatre, the fact that every single time she performs a show, she gets to form a different relationship with the audience. She’s thinking about this when Jas squeezes her hand as they stand on the balcony, and when she sweeps offstage at the end of the number, Lin shooting her a wink.

   The Schuyler Sisters are huddled together in the wings during Story of Tonight like they do every show, when it hits Pippa for the first time. The coffee, the water she’d gulped after the opening; Pippa has to pee. Badly. But Leslie’s dancing his way across the stage and Renée’s grabbing her hand, and she figures she can run to the bathroom before Helpless.

  Pippa’s in the midst of her mad dash upstairs to do just this when a hand snags her by the waist. It’s Andrew, and he looks-if possible- even more frantic than he did earlier. Eyes wide and coat buttoned askew, he tells Pippa that he’s forgotten all of the “rewind” choreography and needs her to mark through it with him. She can hear Jasmine’s voice in her head telling her through a giggle that she’s too nice for her own good, but Pippa just sighs, fixes the buttons on Andrew’s coat, and places her hand on his shoulder. Five minutes later she confirms her suspicion that he in fact knows _all_ his choreography, and it had just been his nerves talking.

   Hindsight’s 20/20, but by the time Andrew yelps and races onstage for Right Hand Man, Pippa knows there’s no point in trying to get in and out of her corset in the little time she has left, and resigns herself to not getting to pee for what’s shaping up to be a very long time, if Andrew has anything to do with it.

    She decides just to mind-over-matter it. If she tells herself she doesn’t have to pee, she won’t have to. Right? Unfortunately for Pippa, this philosophy only seems to apply when she’s standing stock-still, and she recognizes the impossibility of that as she twirls onstage for Helpless. Cursing the costume designers, she survives the number, though the shallow breaths she’s forced to take are making this not one of her strongest vocal performances. Jasmine’s been shooting her concerned looks the whole time, and Pippa doubts she can tell what’s going on, but then again, Jasmine’s always had a bit of a sixth sense when it comes to her girlfriend.

   Pippa’s relieved as the opening arpeggio of Satisfied floats up from the pit, convinced that she can make it through this last song and then, finally, she can relieve herself. What Pippa doesn’t account for, however, is Daveed grabbing her firmly around the waist to lift her into the air.

   Pippa lets out a little gasp, and she’s been holding it for _so long_ , and it’s been such a shitty day, and all of a sudden, it all gets to be too much. Something warm drips down her leg, and that’s when Daveed sees the panic in her eyes and gently sets her down, 2 counts early.

   Pippa’s never been more grateful for giant skirts and layers of petticoats, but she can feel it _leaking_ down her leg, and she wants nothing more than to run offstage, burst into tears, and flee to some remote Balkan country, where she can change her name to Natasha and raise sheep. But they don’t give just anyone a diploma from Julliard, and Pippa knows that barring complete decapitation, she has no option but to stick it out.

   There’s a puddle forming on the stage now, and Pippa can see it and she knows everyone else onstage can see it, and by the way the first couple rows are whispering and giggling, she suspects they can too. Tears prickling in the back of her eyes, Pippa avoids eye contact for the rest of the number, staring pointedly at Lin’s left cheekbone even as he whispers something in her ear that she can’t hear over the roaring waves of humiliation coursing through her mind.

   She has about 8 minutes until ten duel commandments when she runs offstage, and she quickly calculates that it’s not enough time to have the emotional breakdown she so sorely needs. So instead, she heads straight down to wardrobe, trying not to notice when they stop talking as she walks in. She doesn’t know if stage management told them, or if they saw it on the monitor, but she’s grateful for Ally quickly and quietly getting her into clean shoes, tights, and underskirts, relieved to notice there’s only a tiny patch of dampness on her green dress.

   Looking back, Pippa’s not sure how she survived the rest of act one, especially after they hold before stay alive so that a stagehand can mop her tangible mortification off the stage. She’s a professional, after all, and doesn’t let her burning cheeks affect her performance, but she doesn’t let her professionalism stop her from hiding behind the stage left prop table whenever she’s not in the wings, knowing one single sympathetic glance will send her into a spiral of shame Pippa’s not sure she’s ready for.

   But far too soon, it’s intermission, and she has to go back to her dressing room to change whether she likes it or not. She hurries, head down, through the hallway, ignoring comforting hands and words that surround her on all sides.

   The first thing Pippa notices when she slams her dressing room door is a distinct lack of Renée, which she credits to Jasmine. Jasmine, who’s sitting on the couch flipping through her CD collection, face carefully neutral. Pippa looks at her girlfriend, her beautiful, _perfect_ , girlfriend, and then she catches sight of herself in the mirror. Hair messy from her late arrival, bronzer not blended even a little, and sooty marks under her eyes from the few tears that have already escaped. All of a sudden, Pippa’s corset is too tight and she can’t breathe and she’s clawing at it but she can’t reach the tie-and then Jasmine is there and she’s swiftly unlacing it and unzipping Pippa’s skirt and helping her carefully into her robe.

  It’s not until Jasmine has her sitting down on the couch, with an encouraging hand on her back and a box of tissues at the ready, that Pippa finally gives herself permission to react. She cries and cries, and Jasmine doesn’t embarrass her further by trying to offer advice, but just holds Pippa close and strokes her hair and hums something Pippa vaguely recognizes under her breath.

   It’s a testament to how much Pippa trusts Jasmine that Pippa’s crying snotty tears when she realizes what she’s doing is probably a first in any of her relationships. Pippa know she’s never been a pretty crier. Her chin scrunches up and her face gets blotchy, and she’s always hid this from her partners. Cried in the bathroom with the shower running, saving pretty movie tears for the rare times she’d show emotion to the people she’s dating.

   And to make matters worse, Pippa just had an accident. In the most elementary school connotation of the word. Every actor’s reoccurring nightmare just became Pippa’s reality. But Jasmine doesn’t laugh. She doesn’t recoil at Pippa’s touch, or tell her to get over herself, it’s not a big deal. Because Jasmine knows that to Pippa, most things are.

    Jasmine likes to think that her girlfriend operates at a higher level of emotional awareness than the rest of the world, and it’s one of her favorite things about Pippa. Inconvenient? Maybe, like the time Jasmine had to drag her, weeping, away from a fallen baby squirrel in Central Park so they could make call. But endearing nonetheless.

   It’s that kind of love, intense and unyielding, that Jasmine sees in Pippa eight times a week onstage at the Richard Rogers, and Jasmine agrees with Lin when he says that no one as kind as Eliza Schuyler has existed until Phillipa Soo.

  It’s that kind of love that Jasmine can see radiating from Pippa at all times, even now, as Jasmine reaches up gently to wipe her tears away.

  “You wanna change for act 2?”

   “Nope.” Jasmine’s planning on protesting, trying to avoid a repeat of act one’s places call, but then Pippa’s snuggling up to her like a kitten, and practically _purring_ as Jasmine strokes her hair, and Jasmine decides act 2 can wait a little bit.

   The show goes as well as it ever does, and they’re making their nightly transformation back to the 21st century when all three women’s phones light up. It’s a tweet from Lin, and Jasmine gasps as she reads it.

  _@linmanuelmiranda: quite a show tonight, even if we have to burn Eliza’s costumes_

_@linmanuelmiranda: get it? Xo_

  Renée storms out of the room, presumably to go punch Lin, and Jasmine watches carefully as Pippa sinks down onto the couch. She buries her head in a pillow, shoulders shaking, and Jasmine’s contemplating telling Javi to get ready, because Lin isn’t gonna be able to perform for a while after Jasmine’s done with him. But then, Pippa moves the pillow, and Jasmine’s shocked to see she’s laughing so hard she can’t catch her breath.

   “It’s just-I mean-what the fuck?” Pippa’s pretty much squeaking at this point, but Jasmine gets the general gist, and while Lin’s tweet still strikes her as unfairly mean, the laughter bubbling out of her girlfriend is so infectious that Jasmine can’t help but laugh too.

   That’s how Renée and Lin find them when they come storming up, Renée practically dragging Lin by his ear. Pippa and Jas are sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled together, and are laughing so hard that there are tears rolling down Jasmine’s cheeks.

  Reneé’s a little confused, but Lin just snaps a picture of the girls and tweets it.

_@linmanuelmiranda: Joy is infectious. Boom! You’ve caught it._

   It’s not until later, when they’re lying in bed, that Jasmine offers to kill Lin if Pippa wants. Pippa laughs, that musical laugh that makes Jasmine’s stomach feel like it’s on a roller coaster. She curls around Jasmine, stealing a kiss.

   “Maybe later.” Jasmine can handle later, because with Pippa she’s pretty sure she has all the time in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> full disclosure i don't tweet so i only have a vague understanding of how it works.


End file.
